May 8th, 2002

test pattern

Finals Eve

Sara pointed something out to me this afternoon shortly after our 2 p.m. photo communications class was dismissed. We'd just been in our last undergrad class ever. Well, that is... unless we manage to fuck up one of our finals. I'm not sure about her, but I know that such an occurance is a distinct possibility for me. With six tests to go, anything (both good and bad) is possible.

At 8 in the morning, I begin the madness with a warm-up... a final for a class called "Substance Abuse" (Zoe asked if there was a lab -- heh). I damn near aced the first test of the semester and fared okay on the mid-term. I know what material is going to be on it, so I think I'm going to be ready.

I've got midday off to take a nap (and perhaps get a haircut -- cause, damn, I'm shaggy). At 3 p.m., I'll take a final in Photo Comm. I'm not sure what to expect, exactly... Because the prof. kept saying that it was going to be really hard to come up with good questions as it related to the material we've covered. Yet, I feel confident about it. It'll be a step up from substance abuse, but it won't be ugly.

No, ugly lies in wait for me on Friday...
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test pattern

Twas The Night Before Finals

Twas the night before finals, and all through the college,
The students were praying for last minute knowledge.

Most were quite sleepy, but none touched their beds,
While visions of essays danced in their heads.

Out in the taverns, a few were still drinking,
And hoping that liquor would loosen up their thinking.

In my own apartment, I had been pacing,
And dreading exams I soon would be facing.

My roommate was speechless, his nose in his books,
And my comments to him drew unfriendly looks.

I drained all the coffee, and brewed a new pot,
No longer caring that my nerves were shot.

I stared at my notes, but my thoughts were muddy,
My eyes went ablur, I just couldn't study.

"Some pizza might help," I said with a shiver,
But each place I called refused to deliver.

I'd nearly concluded that life was too cruel,
With futures depending on grades had in school.

When all of a sudden, our door opened wide,
And Patron Saint Put It Off ambled inside.

His spirit was careless,
His manner was mellow,
He started to bellow:

"What kind of student would make such a fuss,
To toss back at teachers what they tossed at us?"

"On Cliff Notes! On Crib Notes! On last year's exams!
On Wingit and Slingit, And last minute crams!"

His message delivered, he vanished from sight,
But we heard him laughing outside in the night.

"Your teachers have pegged you, so just do your best.
Happy Finals to All, And to All, a good test."
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